Floating In A Dream
by KKBELVIS
Summary: Chapter Two posted...Simple. Frivolous. Short. Sweet. Plotless. Why? Because - stuff happens. A lake monster. A drowning Sam. More drowning Sam. And yet - even more Sam drowning. Swifly followed by our tender,brutally handsome, hero - Dean.
1. Chapter 1

FLOATING

IN A

DREAM

By: Karen B.

Summary: Simple. Frivolous. Short. Sweet. Why? Because -- stuff happens. A lake monster. A hurt Sam. More hurt Sam. And yet -- even more hurt Sam. Tender, brutally handsome, hero on a white stallion -- or behind the wheel of the bat mobile -- Dean.

Dedicated to my friend, PHX: Hoping this picks you up!

Disclaimer: Kripke is the big fish of the seven seas. I'm just a fry -- swimming in a plastic cup.

Thank you always for the kindness in reading,

Sunshine,

Karen

* * *

He was a little bit lonely -- okay a lot of bit lonely. Choking and clearing water from his nose and throat. Fatigue had set in fast and Sam was beyond any meaning or thought. How could he have let Bessie catch him off guard?

Was stupid.

He was smarter than the average hunter. He wasn't paying attention, and the lake monster had snagged hold of his ankle, dragging him off the pier and into the dirty water of Lake Erie faster than Dean could say Hooters.

Sam fought hard, but the harder he fought, the harder the thirty-foot snake-like creature fought back, pulling him further and further away from land -- away from Dean. Sam had floated off easily, like a child's beach ball -- swept away by a summer breeze. Only this was no breeze. And Sam. Sam was no beach ball. It was disturbing to think, Bessie could swallow him whole. Three other's had already met her fate. Sam briefly wondered how long it would take him to digest in the giant serpent's belly. Or worse, what he would look like coming out the other end. How many human skeletons lay at the bottom, undisturbed beneath the rolling waves. Lake Erie may be the shallowest of the Great Lakes, but that didn't mean it wasn't the deadliest.

Sam could still see the shore line. The dock he'd been standing on, smaller now. Seemingly drifting farther away. He felt himself sinking,but he had to try, anxious to get back to the dry land. Within seconds he realized -- he couldn't. Bessie had pushed him too far out, he had expended almost all his energy fighting her off, desperate just to keep his head up-- failing miserably -- ingesting lake water.

Sam was 'not' the little fish who could. Normally a strong swimmer he had weakened considerably. Hesitating between breaths, having difficulty feeling arms and legs, head bobbing just below the surface. His clothes -- sodden and heavy. Tight denim and tee shirt plastered to his skin, hindering his range of motion.

Down

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down?

He didn't exactly know why he was staring at sand, rock, and swaying kelp instead of blue sky.

Wrong world.

Wrong way.

He'd gone down, not up. Gotten turned around, heading toward a murky grave. He was so cold. So weak. Exhausted, and barely moving. Not one to give up, Sam somersaulted -- hands scrambling at the water, clawing fingers urgent to tear their way through, propel his head back up to the life giving oxygen of his world. Arms flapping, feet kicking, nostrils burning, urging ever bit of strength he had in him to climb his way out.

Seemed like a lifetime, but Sam finally broke the surface. Desperate, sputtering, trying to call for help. Call out to Dean -- inhaling and choking on foamy lake water -- gasping for breath. His body went rigid, cramps hitting him hard. Sam fought the desire to double over. Drowning was said to be a tranquil peaceful way to die. Sam grunted. Not everything you Googled was true. Drowning was scary and lonely -- Sam's lungs already a tight mass of pain, his entire body lake-water cold -- deadening his awareness.

Looking upwards, Sam took in the blue sky, a lone bird, or was that a cloud passing by. Water rippled around his ears. He tilted his head far back, chin raised high, yet, barely keeping his face above the water's surface. Bessie was playing with him. An oversized, killer kitten -- Sam -- her ball of yarn.

Yanking him down.

Letting him surface.

Yanking him down, again.

He wasn't going to make it.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean's far away voice beckoned him.

For the moment Bessie had let him be. Sam thrashed about in a frenzy, trying to stay afloat but only slipping under -- popping back up -- rasping agonizingly. He knew he was drowning slowly, and was desperate to connect with his brother one last time. Everything wavered. Jiggled. Colors diluting, like looking through a Jell-O-shot, perhaps drinking one. Yet, Sam somehow managed to follow his brother's voice, catch sight of Dean as he raced across the graying, slated planks of the dock.

"Swim! Sammy, swim!" Dean yelled, reaching the end of the dock and diving in headlong -- total abandon.

Sam scolded himself. The fight in him renewed.

Dean's coming.

Don't give up.

Never let go.

Just don't.

Find a way.

Sam struggled, all his attention focused on Dean's command, knowing his brother was on his way. He just needed to hold out a little longer, but his left arm had already gone completely numb, his other limbs would soon follow.

The snake-like thing in the water was unnerving, creeping around underneath him. There were no footfalls to announce Bessie's approach, and he could only see a few inches into the darkened water. Sam listened for Dean, but all he heard now was the wind whistling cold in his ear, and water lapping against his neck. There was nothing but open water everywhere he looked. Where was Dean? An abandoned sick-in-his-heart sensation took over. Sooner or later, Sam was going under -- and staying under. Dean would never be able to find his body in the blackish green lake.

Sam caught a glimpse of a large outline swimming past. He panicked. He had lost his weapon. There was no wall to back up against. No tree to climb. The misty- gray shadow coming straight toward him. Muscular body surging by, brushing against Sam's side -- tingling his skin -- chilling him to the bone.

"Gaah." Sam spun around in a circle following the dark shape.

The water was freezing cold -- and Sam -- he was confused, frightened, disoriented, hardly treading water.

_Swim. Sammy, swim. _Dean's voice -- a warning -- in his head.

What?

Swim?

Sam's sluggish memory struggled to define the word. An aquatic sport. To travel through water -- stay a float, don't touch bottom, don't breathe in the liquid. The monstrous dark silhouette brushed by him again, and this time Sam caught sight of one watery-gray eye peering hungrily up at him. Bessie was that one, big fish that always got away. With widely separated eyes for super vision, jagged teeth for tearing, her sheer size and agility -- all made for one scary-ass fish.

"Shit," Sam's breath came in short sporadic pants. His brain was swimming, but his body wasn't. "Ahhh!" Sam cried out suddenly, unsure of what hurt worse, his heaving chest or the stabbing pain of teeth sinking into his right calf.

Was he swimming? He couldn't be certain, everything was numb, the pressure in his chest -- burning -- the only thing that felt warm. He was pulled under again, hands groping for a hold of something, anything -- a rope -- but only water slipped through his splayed fingers.

Sam kicked his feet. Waved his arms. Still he sank. Ears filling with water, like a fish who's fins had been ripped off, gills stuffed with sludge.

He struggled once again up to the surface, drawing in a gasping breath.

"Sam!"

Sam sucked in a deep, choking breath. "D'n." Consciousness was slipping, but he swore he could hear the splashing of Dean's hurried rescue efforts. Or was that the lake monster? "H're," Sam gasped in distress, the call of his name now buzzing in his ears -- Dean begging him to hold on. "Deee…" Sam's breath slipped in and out along with a mouthful of water. "Can't," he gurgled, shook his head.

Sam took a deep breath and sank.

Dean wouldn't get to play his favorite dark and mysterious superhero -- Batman.

Grappling hook woud be nice, right about now, he thought, pressing his lips together to keep the water out.

As if on cue, above him on the surface, the waves rippled. Strong arms reached out, cutting through the water, two legs kicking hard -- propelling the human form forward.

Dean!

Sam forced himself not to call out, his arms searching, reaching upward toward his rescuer, but still he sank -- his body giving up. He took in the grisly details as the lake monster appeared -- jaws open -- ferociously heading Sam's way. He was going to die.

The big bitch was looking straight at him when the glint of metal caught Bessie off guard, a knife jammed into her left eye.

'Dean.' Sam gasped involuntairly, air-bubbles escaping his mouth.

Dean's swimming ability was awesome -- twisting and turning. Stabbing Bessie over and over -- in an all out underwater fight.

Swirls of blood, darker than the water itself invaded Sam's mouth and nose. He wanted to spit the vile invasion out. Breathe in something clean and fresh, but it came to mind, if he did that right now his life would be all over. He continued to sink, staring upward. Dean and the monster circling above -- ignoring him -- bravely locked in battle.

Everything began to slow down. The water -- slim green -- turning cloudy brown as Sam neared the sandy bottom.

Sam, sucked in water --silently coughing -- sucking in more. The lake tearing and burning, filling his lungs up like an old rubber boot.

No air.

Struggling violently.

Getting nowhere.

Gasping.

Water flowing down the back of his throat -- taking his tongue with it -- strangling him.

Muffled sound.

Floating.

Down.

Down.

Down.

He tried to lift his head, look at his brother. Dean was all that mattered to him now. Seeing him just one last time, but the water pressure wouldn't allow Sam's simply last request.

He couldn't feel the pain anymore. Couldn't feel a thing. He needed to sleep. Accepting his fate, Sam went totally limp. Muddy brown turning ink-well black, the last of his air escaping in an Alka-Seltzer-like fizz of bubbles out his mouth and nose.

Someone or something, grabbed hold of him, a firm band wrapped around his chest. Holding him afloat. Tugged him upward. Sam wanted to fight, but couldn't. All he could do was hang limply in the hold of whatever had him now.

Closing his eyes -- floating in a dream.

* * *

Sam was semi-aware of being tugged from the water's hold. Dragged across grit. Belly flopped face down. Someone was choking, gagging beside him.

"Sam! Sam." A strangled voice summoned him, frantic in his ear. "Damn it, Sammy!" So close now Sam could feel warm breath on him, but he couldn't take any of the air in. "Son of a bitch. Dude! Open your friggin' eyes!"

_Screw you, buddy._

Sam didn't want to obey. Who was this nut job? He was warm here. Strangely calm. Pain free. He wanted to tell this crazed person to leave him alone. He was okay. He was at peace. But hard as Sam tried -- he just couldn't.

Hands fumbled awkwardly with him, rolled him over roughly, his head flopping back. Cold, trembling fingers invaded his space. Pressed along the side of his neck, annoyingly hard -- here and there. Sam tried to slap the hand away, strange, nothing worked.

"No." The cold fingers stilled in one spot "No, no, no!"

Sam wandered through a fluffy white cloud. Someone behind him barking out orders.

"Hold on!" A distant pained voice kept repeating.

_Hold on to what?_

There was nothing, but white fog.

"One-two-three- four-breathe. One-two-three-four-breathe." A composed voice repeated over and over, small amounts of warm air fluttering down his closed off throat.

_What the hell?_

A pounding come to his chest. His heart? No. The force was not coming from the inside as it should, but from the outside.

"No…" The voice was muffled as if a pillow had been shoved over his head. "…Saaa…mmm…yyy." He was drifting slowly, floating away.

The pounding came faster, fisted, nearly making him sit bolt up, making his heart jump once then still, his body thumping hard to the ground.

_And shit, okay, that hurt._

There was pressure against his chest again, rib cage moving. Bone rubbing bone. Up and down. His heart forced to beat in quick jerks. This was wrong. All wrong, and Sam was losing all of his senses.

The peace was gone.

Replaced with fear.

Lungs stuffed inside a glass jar full of water --crushing him.

Someone called to him. No, screamed. And not just someone -- Dean. His brother's shaking hands running through his hair, thumbing along his cheekbone. He couldn't hear what Dean was saying, but could tell he was afraid.

"Slacker, do your job!" Dean's voice grew louder, growling angrily.

He heard that.

Sam tried to obey, but his body was not his anymore. He twisted and turned about in the darkness. Trying to find his way out. Suddenly, he saw the green carpet of spring come into focus. A lush meadow filled with yellow buttercups and one enormous sturdy oak tree in the center. It was like he was captured in a world within a world. Sam watched as something appeared from behind the tree. A pretty girl, watching him. White wings -- soft as petals -- unfolded slowly. Her light brown eyes found his. He looked closer. A tiny drop slid down her cheek. How many facets of the universe could be held captive in a single tear?

Jessica.

Everything was all too clear now.

Endless.

Painless.

Happily clear.

Jessica. His world of golden happiness. Brilliant. Peaceful.

Jessica beaconed him nearer. Wanted him to journey beyond the meadow. A fog of sleep seemed to creep over Sam. He knew there was something beautiful yet to be discovered if he went with her. He so wanted to go with her. He missed Jess so damn much. But, something held him in place. A cold frost fringed around his whole body, and he knew he was on the edge of death. One step was all Sam need take to complete the journey from the cold painin to summer warmth and peace. One step and he would know all the answers to all the questions he had ever asked. Jessica stood patiently, waiting for him to decide. Her eyes soft as sparrow's wings and a love that could consume his every tear, every hurt. He heard Jessica's voice in his head. He was not to be afraid. Everything that lives; becomes something else. There is no ending. There was no end of the line--only another beginning.

"Jesus, today, bitch!" A voice broke forth through the silence, and absorbed him. "Damn you!" It was strong pulling him back. The voice wasn't about to let him take that single step. "Come on!" Something inside Sam recognized the fact that the voice was right. He needed to breathe. He wasn't done with his life. Jessica smiled. She understood. She would wait.

Sam shivered, felt like the coldest morning he could ever remember. The meadow turned white with frost, ice crystals hung from the oak and the buttercups were hidden beneath a blanket of white. The spell broken, he felt like a snowflake drifting into blackness.

* * *

"Sam!" His chin was tugged upward, mouth pulled open, warm lips pressed to his cold ones.

Hot breath trailed down his throat.

"Don't!" A voice yelled.

Another breath.

"You are not geeking-out on me, man!"

Sam could hear water lapping against a grassy bank.

Another mouthful of air.

Sam struggled, but only arms and legs twitched.

"Sam! Stop screwing with me!"

A hard slap to his right cheek.

"Dude!"

Sam's fingers flexed, something gritty filling his palm.

"Sammy! Right now!"

A hard slap to his left.

"Son of a bitch! Do you hear me!"

He heard, but was paralyzed.

Can't. Can't. Dean, help.

Two more deep breaths raised his chest.

"Take in some friggin' air! Do I make myself clear?" Forceful hands gripped him by the shoulders, shaking the daylights out of him.

Still -- everything went still.

"Sammy, please." A quiet whisper breezed across his eyelashes. "Sam! Breathe!" he yelled.

Dean. He had to get to Dean.

Sam felt his right hand move -- his right leg.

"Yes." Came an excited whoop.

Sam's head turned to the side, toward th voice, his body suddenly thrusting upward.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Water silently gushed from his mouth, and nose.

"Thank God." Frantic hands rolled him onto his side.

"Ghaaaaung." Choking.

"Sammy."

"Guh!" Sam drew his knees inward.

"That's it, little brother."

**Thump**

**Thump**

**Thump**

A faceless enforcer pummeled the center of his back.

Sam's chest was throbbing, his body hurt all over.

Fists, clenched.

Body, robotic.

Mouth, gapping.

Water, gushing.

Gagging.

Convulsing.

Was he crying? No, he was to busy choking, desperate for air.

"D'n?"

"Here." Two strong arms wrapped around him. "Right here." He was tugged up to sitting. "Get it out, pal. Get it all out. Come on now. Breathe in!"

Sam squirmed in the hold, doing his level-best to do as he was told.

"Breathe out."

He couldn't open his eyes, lashes glued and bunched together.

"Breathe in."

Sam leaned back against the well-known body, his head rolling side to side.

"Stupid, Sam. Just… stupid!" Dean rocked him roughly. "Breathe out."

_Lesson's in breathing? Just who was the stupid one?_

**Glug.**

**Glug.**

Sam let out a painful moan and opened his eyes.

"Lemme…le…mme…up," Sam gagged, trying to move, but was pinned against a heaving chest.

"Stay put," Dean huffed. "Give yourself a minute. Me too, while you're at it. I just drug both our asses out of Bessie's toilet." Dean trembled slightly. "You almost drowned on me. Hell, you did drown on me!" His voice snapped, hands tightening their hold.

"Dean…too tight," Sam panted.

"Huh?"

"Dude, y'r crushing me," Sam wheezed. "Le' m' up."

"Sorry." Dean let up. "You scared the crap out of me, Sam."

"What we doin' in the…r..r…rain?" Sam blinked droplets of water from his eyes.

Dean bent forward catching Sam's eye. "Not rain. Lake water. You…crap, Sammy, I…you…" Dean's gaze slide sideways. "You…you went under. I didn't think I got to you in time. Sam." Dean made eye contact again. "What happened? How'd Charlie Tuna's wife get hold of you?"

Sam frowned, quickly remembering he muttered, "Oops."

"What?"

"I…just… oops." Sam shivered. and started coughing again, whole body vibrating from the effort to rid itself of the dirty lake water.

"Easy." Dean's flattened hand rubbed back and forth along Sam's chest. "Just easy, take it easy."

A few minutes of coughing, gagging and dripping water passed -- Sam finally settling.

Panting with exertion he looked up at Dean. "How'd you get to me? Last I remember, I was pretty far down."

"I walk on water."

"Oh, yeah, forgot."

"Don't ever forget again, Nemo." Dean reached down and brushed the grit from Sam's face.

"Car," Sam muttered.

"Wrong," Dean said sternly.

"No."

"Sam, you're barely coherent, your leg is bleeding, and your sopping wet… inside and out and you weren't breathing."

"Breathing just fine…" Sam coughed whole-bodily. "…Now. C…c…car."

"Check that idea, Bitch, you still have piss water in your lungs and you look like a drown cat." Dean trembled. "Blast it anyway, Sam, you almost died."

"You gave me mouth to mouth?" Sam asked weakly.

"Don't make it weird, man," Dean grumbled.

"No hospital." Sam's head tilted to the side. "Please." Lost puppy, staring straight up at Dean with wet, sad -- take me home eyes.

"Dude, that's cheating."

Sam smiled weakly.

"Fine." Dean slowly wiggled out from under Sam.

"Fine." Sam began following his brother's upward momentum, not even halfway when the earth dumped him upside down. Sam shot a hand out to grab onto Dean -- missing his mark.

"Whoa! Hey! Hey!" Dean caught hold of him before he could fall. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Coming."

"No way." Dean gripped Sam lowering him to sitting. "You're to weak to walk anywhere." Dean hunkered down on the balls of his feet, eyeballing Sam sternly. "I'll go get the car."

There was a but on the tip of Sam's tongue, he bit it back knowing by the look in Dean's eye he didn't stand a chance of winning that argument.

"You wait here, Sam. Don't move." Dean fixed him with a hard stare. "I mean it Sam. Don't. You. Move!"

"Not an idiot." Sam shivered. "College boy, remember?"

"Thinks he's so smart," Dean muttered, hiking his voice up an octave.

"Not today he doesn't," Sam coughed into his fist.

"Won't take me long, bro." Dean patted Sam's shoulder and stood. " I'll have the car nice and warm for you," Dean said bleakly, turning to leave.

Sam shuddered. Leaving? Dean was leaving. He'd be alone again. Floating away. In the dark water. By himself.

"Dean." A panicked sob left Sam's lips.

Dean stopped, half-turning around.

Sam looked away embarrassed by his weakness, pressing a palm to his chest suppressing a cough.

"Sammy?" A question.

Sam shivered.

"Sam!" An order

Sam turned his head peering up at Dean.

Dean waggled an index finger at his brother. "Don't you ever, and I mean ever… 'oops' me again. Got it?" Bullying.

"Got it."

"I got you covered, Sam. Inside and out." Dean lowered his head, eyes steady. "Car's not far. Just over there." He pointed in the Impala's direction. "Won't be out of your sight for a second. Okay, little brother?"

"Okay, Dean," Sam replied.

Green eyes twinkled. "Watch my back, Sammy. You haven't seen anything like this." A sarcastic smile formed on Dean's lips. "I'm Batman." In a grand gesture, arms waving, imaginary cap twirling, Dean spun around and trotted off.

"My big brother, my hero," Sam whispered fondly, taking in several deep breaths, never taking his sights off his superhero, walks-on-water brother as he got behind the wheel of the Bat mobile.

Chapter Two added

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

FLOATING IN

A DREAM

EPILOGUE

By: Karen B.

Dedicated to: Enkidu07 -- who requested a tad bit more to the story. Thank you for the inspiration, friend.

* * *

Buckets of water poured down his throat. Sam tried to open his eyes, but every time, he was only met with a dark haze making him dizzy. Breathing was like torture, something hard constantly slamming into his chest. Over and over. The echo of a panicked voice all around.

He was hot.

Then cold.

Then hot again.

Fiery needles burned his chest.

He was scared.

Where was Dean?

Sam managed to open his eyes.

He was on his back.

Torn to shreds by Bessie.

Lying on the lakes murky bottom. Sand layering around him. Keeping him from moving, his body already decaying. He was cold again. A cold so deep, and so lonely -- it hurt. The undertow rocking him back and forth, making him sick. Waves rolled, curled and churned -- foamy white -- far above. Sunlight barely filtered down through the turbulent water. The warmth, too far to reach him. Too far for Dean to get to him. Too far for Sam to swim.

Neither of them would have the fortitude to make that trip. The lake held him prisoner, pressing down on his chest. One gallon of water weighted 8.3 pounds. How much did Lake Eire weight in at? Sam couldn't do the math fast enough.

All Sam could do was lay there, sixty-two feet under, mindlessly weak. He tried to take in a breath -- gasped and struggled for air -- a coiled viper wrapping around his throat.

He thought of Jessica. Her peaceful image, carving out his heart. Eyes, begging him to come to her, but something wouldn't allow him that right of passage. His face twisted in raw, agonizing pain.

"Sam."

If Sam wasn't underwater, he'd swear he felt tears tug at his lids, spill down his cheeks.

A sharp pain powerfully burrowed through his chest, involuntarily forcing his eyes to squeeze shut.

Dark.

It was so dark.

He never used to be afraid of the dark.

He could hear Dean screaming. Begging Sam to help him. To do something. To do his job. Something awful was happening to Dean. Bessie. She was after his brother. Desperate to get to Dean, Sam fought, but the muscles in his legs and arms only tightened with cramps, convulsed against his efforts.

"Sam."

He couldn't reach his brother.

Couldn't rescue him.

Couldn't swim.

Couldn't breathe.

Frantic.

Hysterical.

"Guhhh…" Sam let out a low, painful growl.

"Relax."

Sam did as he was told. Lay very quiet and very still. Whatever he had been dreaming about --faded. Where was he now? He tried to open his eyes, but they refused. He remembered suffocating. A pleading voice. Restless footsteps. Ghost-like fingers running through his hair, tucking him in someplace warm. Sam shifted, trying to roll onto his side, but stopped when a stabbing pain shot through his chest, producing several low grunts.

"Open your eyes." An exhaled whisper in his ear. "Sam." The voice a little louder this time. "Open your eyes."

Sam coughed jaggedly.

"Easy." A cool palm came to rest lightly on his heated forehead.

"Ehhh." The sudden touch made him jolt.

"Just me, Sam."

Sam drew his eyes open slowly -- narrow at best-- staring up into a pair of green ones. He knew this person sitting next to him, but the signal from his brain didn't quiet reach his mouth. A warm feeling washed over Sam. A feeling he pinned down as love. This person would not harm him -- not ever. A few more ripples of pain ran through his chest. Sam grimaced, glancing around the room, trying to reorient himself. Everything wavered, like a flag in a windstorm. Sam absently rubbed at his chest. Hurt. Like a blade shaving off bone -- hurt.

"You with me?"

"I think," Sam croaked, his voice raw.

"What friggin' took you so long!" Green eyes smirked.

"I don't. Might have been....gah." Sam fought to sit up. "...The whiskey," he muttered.

"You wish." A firm hand pressed him back down. "Take it slower, little brother. You haven't gotten your sea legs back yet. No yippie-ki-yay for awhile, rodeo cowboy."

"Yippie…what?" Dean and his metaphors. Sam trembled with cold-- confused -- mind mashed, like overcooked something or other. "D'n," Sam frowned, taking another minute to realize, he was lying in a motel bed, breathing hard and sweating. Pillows, sheets, and blankets tangled and wrapped around him like they'd been through a war zone.

Sam could still feel lake water glugging and gurgling around inside his belly, maybe he'd even swallowed a fish who was hell-bent on escaping the polluted lake. He wanted to throw 'said fish' up -- but swallowed -- keeping the poor little fellow down.

Sam licked his cracked lips. How could they be so dry? He'd drank enough lake water to fill a crater. He needed to sit up or he was going to throw up. He struggled again, fingers crawling out from under the covers, shifting uncomfortably, coughing hard.

"Pigheaded!" Dean growled, slipping a hand behind Sam and helping ease him upright, higher on the pile of pillows. "Here." Dean reached over to the nightstand "Drink this." He lifted a mug to Sam's lips.

Water." Sam shook his head 'no', bangs falling over his eyes. "No, water." He shoved the mug away, sloshing some of the liquid over the rim.

"Not water, pal, tea, just drink it."

"Bossy." Sam pushed his hair off his forehead. With shaky hands he reached for the mug, still out of it and way too weak to navigate the mug to his lips. Dean wrapped a hand around Sam's guiding the mug for him.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled around the cup, taking a few swallows of honey-flavored tea.

"How's the pain?" Dean asked, taking the mug and setting it on the nightstand.

"Painful." Sam slumped back into the pillows, damp bangs falling back into his eyes.

"You know... " Dean drew a hand across Sam's forehead, pulling hair out of his eyes, soothing away the ache. "Not only did you suck in piss water, damn bitch broke a few of your ribs trying to flush your big ass down her toilet bowl."

"My big ass is fi…" Sam half-sat up, hunched over, coughing and bulking. "Ugh." He fisted a handful of sheets, knuckles white as ivory tusks.

Hey, hey, hey." Dean scooted around behind Sam, holding him up, kneading his back gently.

After a moment, the coughing fit stopped, Sam falling against Dean. Heavy with weakness his eyes slipped shut, gasping and trembling hard. Silence hung between them. Sam melting further against his brother's warmth, desperate to stop shaking.

"Dude?"

"Huh?" Sam reopened his eyes.

"How 'bout some fires with that shake?" Dean chuckled.

'Sam recognized the small hint of fear shinning through Dean's laughter.'

If Sam thought he was scared and alone, Dean must have felt the same. In his rush to kill Bessie, unable to get to Sam fast enough. The whole weird mouth- to-mouth thing.

"Want to know something?'' Sam whispered, wanting, needing to erase his brother's worry. Let Dean know he had no intentions of dying on him.

"Yeah."

"I saw... Jess."

"You what?"

"I saw Jess, you know when I was….was out of it." Sam cocked his head to one side, staring off into space. "She…she wanted me to go with her. She looked good. Peaceful. Happy. I wanted to go. I wanted to feel that peace." Sam's glance flicked up at Dean.

"Why didn't you?" Dean bit down on his lower lip.

Sam shrugged -- the kind of brotherly shrug that said everything.

Dean smiled knowingly

"Dean, that oops thing."

"Yeah."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you when I was, when you were giving me…you know…mouth-to…"

"Sam."

"Yeah."

"You're making it weird."

"Blah, blah, blah," Sam muttered, his eyelids twitching, fighting the draw of sleep. "Can't keep my eyes open." Sam blinked repeatedly.

"It's okay, Sam, you can go back to sleep."

"You'll be okay?" Sam reached up a hand.

"I'll be okay." Dean entwined their fingers.

Gazes held one another, hard-white knuckled grips -- confirming.

"What about those fries?" Sam's head lolled.

"Donut and coffee run sounds better," Dean said.

"Dean." Sam stiffened, not wanting to be left alone.

"In the morning," Dean informed, not taking his eyes off Sam.

"Stop looking at me like that." Sam nestled closer to Dean, welcoming the smell of oil-tanned leather.

"Like what?" Dean griped.

"Like creepy stalker guy." Sam smiled.

"As far as creepy stalker guys go, I'm awesome," Dean chuckled.

"Agreed." Sam closed his eyes.

"Sam…"

"Dude, don't' make it weird," Sam mumbled falling asleep -- smile still on his face.

The end.


End file.
